Last Light
by shellalana
Summary: Growing up together with a large Thrall isn't easy, and Jasus wonders whether it's time to move on. [This is for a loving friend of the Battleborn community who is no longer with us. A dedication to one of her Battleborn OCs who was well-developed and made so many loved friends within and outside of the RPing community. You are loved, Nema, and we will never forget you.]


Making ends meet had become more and more troublesome within the Detritus Ring as they got older and the Thrall grew in leaps and bounds that made it difficult to hide from the authorities. Even their small hovel had gotten too small for the both of them, and that meant they were going to have to look for a new place without getting caught.

Day and night, they took turns moving their things and taking odd jobs to keep the money rolling, scuttling about town to find an abandoned building that would be big enough for him to stretch his feet and horns around with scuffing up the walls and ceiling. It wasn't made any easier by his growing pains either, and that laid him out for several days at a time while she continued her schemes on their behalf. But they'd found a place soon enough in an abandoned meat factory with plenty of space to split it up and designate different areas. And it smelled a lot better than their old place.

The slamming of a particular piece of wood meant she was home in a bad mood, and Jasus rearranged himself on the makeshift couch - two rusted-out cars stapled together and filled with cushions and blankets - to make way for his grumpy partner-in crime. She faceplanted into a particularly plush pile and draped herself across his lap.

"How was-"

A muffled scream erupted from the pile of fabric, and he allowed her to finish before he continued his question.

"... job didn't go well, I take it."

"It's all been a shit day." She rolled onto her back and stared up at the hole-filled roof of the vehicle.

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad." She dug into her pocket and tossed the meager number of bills she'd managed to steal that day into his lap. Barely enough to last them for two days, with the amount of food he ate.

He was about to shake his head in amusement - money meant nothing! - when she rolled up the arm of her jacket to reveal a few choice bruises as well. They'd caught her and made her pay for it. It soured his expression, and he had the right mind to make someone pay for hurting her.

Another day. Right now, he just wanted to sit in the dark and be whatever she needed him to be.

"The sorta bad that'd be made better with ice cream?" he offered. Growing up with her, he'd learned her weaknesses and comforts quickly, and always offered one up to make her mood better. Ice cream was her Achilles' heel, and he'd never known it to fail once.

"... yeah. That'd be perfect."

"Great. Get your nice shoes on."

She sat up and stared at him with unbelieving eyes.

"You counted what I got, right? We need to stretch that out for the week."

"Don't you worry about that. I'll take care of it."

"But-"

"No buts. Let's go get ice cream and forget for awhile." He wasn't going to let her argue either, and tucked her small form under one arm, despite her protests. That was one good thing about his growth spurt: despite her being "in charge," there was only so much she could when he put his mind to something. He could always go out and find some work while she slept later, work through the pains and make up for the meager funds she'd brought in. It was only fair.

They returned with a cone in each hand, his already half-finished as he tried to savour as much as possible. Vanilla. Simple, but it had always been his favourite. No need for any of those extra niceties that only muddled up the pureness of the flavour. She, on the other hand, had gone for some complicated mess with half of the whipped cream having fallen off on the way back, and a stain of melted chocolate chips all over her shirt. There they sat, on their makeshift couch, lapping at frozen sugary dairy, in their own little home with nothing but the next day to look forward to.

"With the way you're growin', we're gonna have to look for another place in a year or two..." She crunched down on her cone and tried to salvage the sticky mess that still covered her wrists.

"... ya know, I could just go. I mean, you don't gotta take care of me anymore, mum. 'm kinda becomin' more of a hassle than I'm worth, don'tcha think?" he muttered with a half-chuckle. Leaving her side was the last thing he wanted to do, but he didn't want to be a burden either.

There was a click, and he looked down to see her knife reflected in what little light came in through the slats of wood and metal. It took him by surprise, and he had no idea how to react.

"... Reyna?"

"You're not leaving, you hear me? You're not going anywhere." She crushed the rest of her cone into soggy flakes of crust and threw the mess onto the floor. "Through thick or thin, remember?"

He remembered, but that was before, when he was just a pup and he was only an inch or two taller than her. Now...

His shoulders sagged. He knew that leaving would be for the best, but didn't know how to make her see that.

"I don't care what you think. You're... you're not..."

She could barely finish before the knife clattered across the room and she buried her face in her sticky hands.

He'd only ever seen her like this a handful of times, and had never found the appropriate words to say. He'd gotten used to letting it pass; she always pretended like nothing was wrong, in the end. Instead, this _was_ his fault. His words had hurt her, and he had no more ice cream to soothe the pain with. So he gathered up her shuddering form and hugged her against the crook of his shoulders.

"'m sorry, mum. Won't suggest that ever again."

"S'right. You're stuck with me, you big dummy." She sniffed wetly and punched the back of his head with her tiny fist.

"Heh. Sure, boss." He winced in pretense and allowed her her cry, watching as the long rays of Solus' light start to fade. "Whatever you say."


End file.
